The Plight Of Narcissus
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: [Liason COMPLETE] Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper.


**Note: **This was actually a dare/challenge to put these lyrics to a story. I'm not sure how it turned out, but it was one of those stories that wouldn't shut up. Beware of lots of contradictory phrases; just go with it. I honestly have no idea how this turned out, so your opinion is most welcome. People always ask me where I get my titles from, so I might as well offer a quick explanation for this one right now. It's not about the vanity of Narcissus as he admired himself by a pond until he died and turned into a flower - one of the most overused literary motifs ever - but about the belief that if you step away from your reflection in a body of water, you cease to exist. Thank Bill Waterson for that.

* * *

**The Plight Of Narcissus**

Johnny O'Brien was swearing – harsh, dirty, four-letter words screamed hoarsely at the top of his lungs as the bullets whizzed through the air. But Jason didn't hear him; all he heard was the rip of his leather jacket, the dull thud as the guard's tall form knocked him to the ground, the explosion of fire as the bullets met his body and pierced their way through him with sickening ease.

The men were returning fire, directing a bevy of bullets at Sandoval's men. A bloodbath waged on in the dense woods and neither side was giving in. Though outnumbered, the men of the Corinthos organization were sufficiently trained to know exactly what to do in a situation like this. Normally, Jason would be one barking out orders on how to drive the assassins back and best ensure their own safety. This time, however, he wasn't moving.

_**All our times have come  
Here but now they're gone**_

Francis Corelli winced as a lance of fire tore through his left flank. Clutching his weapon fiercely, the guard grabbed his wounded side and applied pressure as he rolled across the hard, snow-covered ground to seek shelter behind a tree. A moment's brief reprieve had him firing once more. He watched two of the rival guards fall only to be dragged away by their peers; nodding to Max, Francis eased out from behind a tree and crept forward as fast as he could, ducking behind another tree and resuming his firing.

Those few seconds gave Max the time he needed to cover O'Brien and their fallen boss. Bullets whizzed over their heads as the two men grabbed Jason's arm and pulled him from his vulnerable position out in the open. Francis dropped his weapon and ducked out of sight long enough to jam another cartridge in, and he looked first to Johnny and Max before he resumed firing.

_**Seasons don't fear the reaper  
Nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain  
We can be like they are**_

Their rivals were running for cover, doing their best to dodge the bullets aimed at strategic locations on their bodies. The Corinthos men were gaining ground; enough ground to force the Sandoval forces farther back enough so that they could assess their own damages and escape the area safely.

But Johnny O'Brien didn't think that Jason would be so lucky.

**_Come on, baby_**  
_**Don't fear the reaper**_

The cool winter breeze ran across his pale cheeks like a gleeful child and Jason's lashes fluttered. Somewhere, he could hear faded explosions as countless Glocks fired; Johnny's voice, a harsh roar, barely made it to his ears; two pairs of strong hands were moving his body across the snow, but he felt as if he were light as a feather.

_**Baby take my hand**_  
_**Don't fear the reaper**_

The wind howled through the barren trees, threatening their weakened limbs.

A few light flurries caught on his lashes. Lingered.

The winter sun hid behind puffy but oppressive clouds.

Jason's hand lay still on the hard, snow-covered ground when Max and Johnny finally laid him down. His jacket was pushed aside, his shirt ripped open, as the two men quickly sought his wounds. Two exit, one in which the bullet remained buried within his body. The thin layer of snow surrounding his heavy body began to tinge pink.

The harsh wind that ripped at the guards' overcoats, tore through their hair, was granting Jason welcome reprieve. He felt nothing of its bitterness, nothing of the way it cut straight through to the bone. Instead, he felt a soft, scented breeze, the same one that caressed his cheeks not moments ago.

His fingers, just now still on the ground, curled as if something had reached for them.

**_We'll be able to fly  
Don't fear the reaper_**

As Johnny applied pressure to the gaping wounds, frantically yelling orders to his men, Max checked his employer's pulse. It was faint – so faint that his trained hands almost missed it entirely. Jason was barely moving, barely breathing. He was slipping away.

A slight movement caught his eye and the Italian guard stared at his boss' right hand. The hand rotated, palm now facing the pale and ominous sky, and the fingers curled slightly as if accepting another hand.

_**Baby, I'm your man**_

A soft white light enveloped him, overtook him, soared through his veins until there was nothing else. It eclipsed the whole of his existence, allowing him in that glorious moment to live luminously between two eternities of darkness.

Something, somewhere, was reaching for him, holding him aloft as his consciousness abandoned him. He moved with ease without moving at all, content to be enveloped whole by this warm light.

_**Valentine is gone  
**__**Here but now they're gone**_

Slowly, his weight returned to his body. It could have been hours or mere minutes, but eventually, he found himself grounded. The white light still caressed him, wrapped around his body, supported him. Jason had yet to open his eyes; even though he was staring at the insides of his eyelids, all he saw was whiteness and light.

Somewhere, somehow, he could still feel Johnny's weight as his old friend applied pressure to his flank. But that was faded, distant, inconsequential. Because the world that surrounded him was not a world of sensory sensation; all that existed was warmth and illumination.

_**Romeo and Juliet  
**__**Are together in eternity**_

He wasn't prepared for the world that awaited him when he opened his eyes. The land on which he stood stretched out into distance as far as the eye could see. Everything was bright but the intensity didn't hurt his eyes or force him to squint. It smelled different here, too – it smelled like nothing. Did nothing smell?

These were the thoughts that claimed him as he stared blankly out at the endless landscape. He felt far removed from everything, far removed from his own body, even. Disoriented and passively confused, Jason just stood still in the sea of white.

_**Forty thousand men and women everyday  
**__**(Like Romeo and Juliet)  
**__**Forty thousand men and women everyday  
**__**Redefine happiness**_

He felt her before he saw her.

Something shifted in the non-threatening abyss that swallowed him. He felt it shift within him; felt a spark of feeling race through his veins in this land devoid of feeling.

He was as cognizant of her arrival as if she were a part of him.

_**Another forty thousand coming everyday  
**__**We can be like they are**_

His body was at once numb with passivity and alive with sensation. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, tingling with anticipation. Something tremendous was about to happen, and though he didn't know what it was, Jason knew it had to do with her.

His mind didn't stop to wonder what she was doing here, where he was. In fact, his mind didn't stop at all, for anything. Thoughts and consciousness blended together until infinity was within reach, melding with the welcoming abyss until he didn't know where the landscape ended and his mind began.

She already knew this.

He could feel her thoughts, her heart, her soul as she lingered somewhere close but painfully out of reach. They seemed to blend together, two entities becoming one in this inanimate environment.

His body was alight with icy warmth and though Jason stared straight ahead, he knew who was behind him.

"Elizabeth."

_**Come on, baby  
**__**Don't fear the reaper**_

She stepped up next to him, not looking directly into his eyes but instead at the ground. Jason followed her gaze and saw that he was standing at the edge of a pristine pond, so illuminated that it glowed up at them, casting soft light on their bodies.

Their reflections stood side by side in the pond and that was how he got his first good look at her. He hadn't seen Elizabeth Webber since the day she left Port Charles. They hadn't been together at that point; she had walked out of his penthouse because of how he lied about Sonny and a few weeks later, she had left town altogether. For the next few years, Jason always told himself that it was better this way. No matter how many Valentine's Days found him staring up at her abandoned studio, no matter how many times a postcard called her name, no matter how many times the Cliff Road begged for another passenger on his lonely motorcycle, it was better this way. She was safe this way.

But how safe could she possibly have been if she was now standing right next to him?

_**Baby, take my hand  
**__**Don't fear the reaper**_

She was much older now.

He remembered her as barely a young woman. Her wavy hair fell right above her shoulders; her form was slender but a little jaunty, with sharp elbows and shoulders; there was a naïve arrogance gleaming in those darling sapphire eyes.

The Elizabeth standing next to him now was much different from that girl. Her hair was long and fell just below her shoulders in soft curls. Those full lips that had always before been painted an audacious crimson were now nude, tinged their natural pink. There was no arrogance to be found in her dark blue orbs, just a mature, compassionate understanding. Her movements were soft and graceful, like those of the slender grasses bowing to the gentle breeze.

She wore a white dress that fluttered gently at her calves despite the absence of wind. Those soft curls, too, bounced gaily when she moved and fluttered against her cheeks and neck like a reluctant child.

She was beautiful.

_**We'll be able to fly  
**__**Don't fear the reaper**_

Those solemn blue eyes were staring back at him through their reflections. She stood with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, inadvertently accentuating the pinch of her narrow waist, and didn't say a word. Jason's breathing was deep and slow as his eyes skimmed over her figure in the water.

"What are you doing here?"

She blinked and those full lips twitched in a humorless smile. For the first time, Elizabeth removed her gaze from the pristine waters at their feet and looked up at him, taking in his profile. But Jason didn't move; instead, he merely watched her watch him in the pond.

The question need not even have been asked, for as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he knew the answer. Their existences blended together, linking and interlinking as visions raced through his consciousness. Images of her traveling to the far corners of the world, painting a scenic vista from her remote hideaway in a perfectly secluded location. She wasn't happy but she kept moving, never staying in one place too long because there was simply too much to see. But it wasn't long before the travels became less leisurely and more necessary. She was being chased. Skillfully. Mercilessly. Chased, hounded, hunted. And it wasn't long before the huntress found her. That was when she found herself here, waiting, lingering, barely existing, all courtesy of one Helena Cassidine.

The question lingered between them – _what are you doing here?_ Jason's heart was racing slowly; again, it seemed far-off to him, no longer of his own body. _What are you doing here?_

She answered him softly, although she might as well have kept quiet; he could feel her thoughts anyway.

"The same thing you are."

_**Baby, I'm your man**_

His body hurt. Something reached inside of him, ripped him open and plunged inside, squeezing his heart. Her voice, her beautiful voice, wrapped around him like a blanket and warmed him with comfort, but even that was not enough to soothe the conflict inside his body.

She was supposed to have been safe.

But here she was.

It was the last place he ever expected to meet her.

Elizabeth sensed his thoughts and moved closer. Her body didn't move but, rather, he felt her presence envelope him more fully this time, seeking to brush away the pain that plagued him. Responsibility. Guilt. Remorse. Those were things that didn't belong here.

He felt what she wanted him to; she was safe here. They were both safe here, or at least, they both would be shortly. Her arrival to this land had nothing to do with him, as ironic as that was. He let her leave for her own protection; even that didn't protect her in the end. Her existence here was facilitated by her own machinations; the blame was not his and she would not allow him to take it.

That was the Elizabeth he remembered – always refusing to let him apologize for something that wasn't his fault.

_**Love of two is one  
**__**Here but now they're gone**_

Despite her stubbornness, his cerulean eyes were filled with pain as he stared at their reflections in the pond. It was all beginning to come back to him – the senses that had abandoned him were laying claim to him once more.

The pain in his side, the weight of Johnny's hands as he tried to clot the blood and life that ran out of him.

The cold wind on his face.

Snow under his fingertips.

His weight, leaving impressions on the unblemished ground upon which they stood.

Regret for letting her walk out all those years ago.

_**Came the last night of sadness  
**__**And it was clear that she couldn't go on**_

She felt this and reached for him. Not as she had before; this time, Elizabeth actually moved. And he felt her. Those small hands, always so soft and warm, sought his own rough, cold ones. She squeezed hard, letting him feel their contact, and searched his blank face for some sort of expression.

His hands were too weak to squeeze back; the fingers could only curl slightly.

Jason's breath escaped his chattering teeth with difficulty, coming in short gasps.

Elizabeth understood what this meant; he was lingering. Lingering between two worlds, tarrying in indecision, fraught with uncertainty.

Johnny had summoned their doctor, who was now digging into Jason's flank in search of one of the fatal bullets, the only one that was lodged deep in his body.

Max had taken off his coat and placed it over the rest of Jason's body.

Harsh wood rasped against his bare back.

His fingernails were turning blue.

And Jason didn't know whether to come or go.

_**Then the door was open and the wind appeared  
**__**The candles blew then disappeared**_

Fortunately for him, she knew. She knew exactly what was supposed to happen.

The brunette squeezed his hand again, and brought her soft hand up to cup his cheek.

Jason relaxed into her touch, relishing it after sentencing himself years ago to a life without her. She calmed something inside of him, fixed what raged within. She was the soothing balm to his wounds, and she was getting through.

With her hand still on his cheek, Elizabeth turned his face toward the now rippling water. "Look," she whispered, imploring him to peer into the pond. "Look down there."

_**The curtains flew and then he appeared  
**__**Saying don't be afraid**_

Jason peered closer into the water, squinting through the concentric circles of the ripples that bounced off the edge and made their way outward. He could see something, all right – something that he couldn't see earlier.

The pain in his side sharpened, making him sink to his knees, as the image became clearer. He was in the boxcar, propped up against the old wood with nothing but a dark trench coat thrown over part of his exposed chest. The doctor and Francis were both bent over him and moving frenetically. Their hands were stained red. Johnny moved behind them, pacing back and forth with his phone in his hand.

He saw his body jerk and Jason had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. Elizabeth's hand found his shoulder and she held on to him, as if able to absorb some of the shockwaves racing through his weakened body.

The image was clear to him, as was the pain in his side.

Elizabeth didn't even have to explain it to him this time.

_**Come on, baby  
**__**And she had no fear**_

The doctor located the bullet, wrenched it out of his body.

Jason cried out hoarsely, clutching his side with both hands. That was when Elizabeth's grip on his shoulder tightened and she pulled, knocking him back onto his heels.

The sudden movement jarred his body and Jason expected to double over in pain. But he was surprised; instead of increasing in intensity, the pain lessened.

He watched her reflection superimposed over the earthly images as the slender brunette bent and wrapped her arms around him. With a strength that seemed unlikely in her delicate form, she helped him to his feet and farther away from the image in the pond.

What was once an acute ache receded into a sharp pang.

Her hand splayed out on his chest and Elizabeth backed him up one more step.

The pangs gave way to a dull throb.

_**And she ran to him  
**__**And they started to fly**_

The image was blurry now, the pristine waters clouded.

Max applied pressure to the wound, eagerly awaiting a sign of animation.

The doctor checked Jason's pulse. Frowned.

Johnny's hand, holding the phone, fell limply to his side.

Elizabeth pressed her lips to Jason's cheek and pulled him back another step.

_**They looked backward and said goodbye  
**__**She had become like they are**_

He knew what was happening; the farther away he got from the pond and the images he had just begun to see, the more he'd enter her world. It was a decision, but one that wasn't his to make. It seemed, after all, that it had already been made for him.

Jason's cerulean orbs were sober as he slowly untangled himself from Elizabeth's arms. She understood and backed away a fraction of an inch as he cast one more look at the pond. Without looking at her, Jason reached for her small hand. This time he was the one squeezing hard.

_**She had taken his hand  
**__**She had become like they are**_

The white light rushed for them, enveloping them, sending them soaring. Jason let it; he allowed it to whistle through his veins, take command of his body, lift him up and leave him curiously suspended. For he still held her hand in his, and that was enough.

The pond disappeared; with it, so did the doctor's dejected sigh. The man gently laid his bloodied hands on wrinkled black trousers and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Max looked away.

Johnny cursed.

Francis crossed himself, his lips moving in silent prayer.

Jason saw them, felt them, but was too removed from them to accomplish anything besides half-hearted cognizance. Her small hand pumped life into his body as they remained suspended, once again living luminously together between two eternities of darkness.

_**Come on, baby  
**__**Don't fear the reaper.**_

**The End.**

**Song: **Don't Fear The Reaper  
**Artist:** Blue Oyster Cult


End file.
